


Boar’s Blood

by asinineAnomaly



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a hopeful(?) ending, Dimitri also isn’t there for long but his presence is felt, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, The dimilix is technically implied but I feel like its, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, enough to warrant tagging him, y’know implied enough to warrant the tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asinineAnomaly/pseuds/asinineAnomaly
Summary: After Dimitri dies, Felix grieves. (But probably not the way he should.)





	Boar’s Blood

The blade comes out covered in red and Dimitri’s body falls to the ground. Felix stares at it, hoping, wanting,  _ screaming _ to feel something, anything other than the gaping emptiness where his heart should be. Distantly, he hears someone — Byleth or Edelgard, he thinks, equally distant — shout… something, but he’s left standing over Dimitri’s lifeless body, blade still dripping with blood — ironically, he realizes this blade is something Dimitri gave him, before either of them fully realized what that meant — willing his body to move. It doesn’t. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, the sounds of battle having long since faded into the background, almost as lifeless as the corpse at his feet. He doesn’t know how long it takes the battle to end, doesn’t know if it’s even over, not until he hears a voice.

“Felix?” The voice is Bernadetta’s, he vaguely realizes, there’s something in her voice, concern or something like it, “the battle’s over. Um, are you… ok?”

Felix turns on his heel and walks away, not heeding her, the blood on his blade already drying. Dimitri’s last words echo in his head.

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s time for the final battle at Fhirdiad and Felix stares at the sword, now starting to rust. He puts it in its sheath and carries it with him, one of the last reminders of Dimitri. He carries it to the last battle, to Dimitri’s home. To  _ his  _ home. 

Vaguely, as Felix sees Rhea’s cronies set fire to the city, he thinks he should be angry. He  _ is  _ angry, he realizes, belatedly, angrier than he deserves to be. The flames lick the buildings, panicked residents still inside, and he puts his hand on the hilt of his rusting sword. Dimitri would be devastated, he thinks for a moment, like what Dimitri would feel even matters anymore. 

The battle goes by quicker than he wants it to, bodies falling around him, monstrous automatons screech to a halt as they take more damage than they can handle, Rhea’s draconic form falls screaming, Byleth orders them to spare as many soldiers as they can, but Felix wants to kill them all, for destroying the city Dimitri loved so much, for carelessly using him and the rest of Faerghus and throwing them away. Why didn’t they evacuate the innocent civilians? Why did they have to die? Why did Dimitri have to die for this? Why did Dimitri say that? 

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been a week since the battle, the bloody sword still sitting in his room, unclean and untouched. But Felix isn’t in his room, he’s at the training grounds, hacking away at a training dummy, clinging to the training sword so hard his knuckles are white. He’s thinking about Dimitri, the same way he has since he killed him. Soon he’s seeing blond hair and blood on the dummy, still hacking away at it as his vision blurs. The sword snaps and he smacks the dummy with the damaged hilt once, twice, until he just about collapses on it, hands bracing on its shoulders as he breathes sharply, fighting the growing wetness on his cheeks. One more sharp inhale and he thinks he’s got it together, but then he’s thinking about those words again.

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been two weeks since the battle, and Felix’s hands are red and bloody from overuse. He’s been at the training grounds everyday and works his body to the bone. An exercise in futility that does nothing to distract him. He doesn’t understand what causes him to continue, he doesn’t think he  _ wants _ to — to do anything but wallow in the painful, empty feeling he can’t get rid of. Still, he keeps going until he faints. Keeps going until Byleth forces him to stop, forces him to  _ talk _ . They say something about grieving, something about trusting others to help, but he’s already far away, thinking about the same words he’s been thinking about since Dimitri uttered them.

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been a month since Fhirdiad burned, the rusted sword hangs on his wall, Byleth, Edelgard, and Hubert talk about something important in hushed voices. Some of the others are curious, but Felix couldn’t care less. He’s laying down, staring at the sword on the wall, the words play over and over again in his head. After a while, Felix stands up, grabs the rusted blood covered sword, the final reminder he has of Dimitri, and takes it to the training grounds, stabs it in one of the training dummies and goes to work with a training sword. His hands are bloody and blistered, but the pain is almost welcome.

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been two months since Fhirdiad, and they have one last mission. They’re somewhere in Goneril territory, somewhere underground, like he’s never seen before. Felix should be amazed by where they are, the technology is like nothing he’s ever seen, but instead it’s painful. The lights are bright and impossible to deal with, some device shoots beams of it that could kill them if they aren’t careful, and the rusty sword feels heavy in its sheath. They go through these… people with as much speed and precision as possible, something Felix is grateful for. He wants this to be over. They taunt him,  _ taint _ him, with words far too accurate for his liking. One of them says Dimitri’s name and he kills them before they can finish, he knows what they’re going to say, he doesn’t want to hear it. Not from anyone but Dimitri himself. Not that he deserves that much.

_ I’m glad it was you.  _

——

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end. One month later and they’re facing Nemesis and the Ten Elites, something Felix can’t completely believe, even as it happens right in front of him. Byleth sends him to fight Fraldarius, and Felix smiles bitterly at the thought. How hilariously ironic, sending him to kill his ancestor. As he gets closer, he notices she looks like him, same navy hair, same amber eyes. It makes sense, considering he’s her descendent, but it makes killing her easier than it should be. After he finishes, he goes to the nearest Elite, trying not to dwell on that, to focus on the battle at hand. The nearest one is Blaiddyd, he realizes, only because it causes him to stop for a moment, causes him to think back to the rusty sword he can’t help but keep close by.

_ He looks like Dimitri. _

That split second is all it takes for Blaiddyd to get in a good hit, Felix only gets a second to absorb it — to recognize that’s his blood spilling from his side — before he passes out.

He wakes up in the infirmary later, goddess only knows how much later, his side bandaged but still in pain, the sounds of celebration coming from somewhere distant — although he hears someone gasp in relief near him — and he might be starting to understand what Dimitri meant and why he said what he did. Felix doesn’t know what to make of that. 

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been six months since Dimitri died, and the energy from celebrating the end of the war is starting to be used for reconstruction. Byleth and Edelgard tell Felix he doesn’t have to stay, he could go to Fearghus, to Fhirdiad…  _ home _ . The dissolution of nobility means he has more freedom to choose what he wants to do, instead of feeling obligated to take control of Fraldarius territory, but Felix doesn’t know what he wants to do, so instead he goes to the training grounds, drops the rusty sword that he’s become more and more attached to, and begins training again. His hands are no longer red, no longer bleeding, and he’s calmed down some since the war ended, but sometimes the words hit him and he’s left with nothing again. Maybe he’ll go on a journey. 

_ I’m glad it was you. _

——

It’s been a year since Dimitri died, since Felix killed him. Felix travels now, selling his sword to whoever wants to buy it, never staying in one place too long, lest he get… attached. A rusty reminder of everything he’s done is affixed to his back, always close by and easy to reach, but completely unusable. It’s been a long time since he’s been to the monastery, to Enbarr, to Fhirdiad, but he’s back, no matter how short a stay he plans it to be, and he thinks he understands, finally, what Dimitri meant when he said it. Felix has a reply, he thinks, whenever they meet again. 

_ I’m glad it was you, too,  _ he mutters, placing daffodils on Dimitri’s grave. Maybe he’ll finally get to tell him one day, far away from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so daffodils symbolize “uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, return my affection; new beginnings” according to wiki. I thought that was fitting for this fic so. Yeah....
> 
> Also I started thinking about the weapon giving thing and was like... what if you didn’t maintain the weapon?? Does that symbolize rejection or falling out of love?? Or being unable to forge a new path for yourself and therefore being stuck in the past?? Please intsys I need answers but well I think you realized I went with the latter interpretation for this fic (also that sweet dramatic irony of using a weapon given to you to kill the person who gave it to you)
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this bit of Felix angst or well.... maybe not considering it’s angst but still!! Thank you very much for reading!!


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